Nova
by Book-Master
Summary: CH 2 is up! The ongoing drama about Nova's life as a Ghost, and the story of how she found her past, and what lies ahead. REVIEW! Tinkering... I'm back again... hahaha.
1. Chapter 1: The Girl

This is the first TRUE fic on this website for Starcraft: Ghost hehehe  
I beat you all. Come to think of it… not sure if anyone has written any others period… unless they did something after that novel came out. Speaking of which, check out the original publication date. Beat 'em all.

Oh, yeah… I'm back. ^_^

Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Starcraft or any characters units, or structures,  
other then those I may create myself.

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**Prologue -**

* * *

**Explosions rocked the ground, as another tank exploded.**

"FALL BACK!" screamed the Captain of the defense forces.

The hordes of Zerglings charging the defenses of the outpost were beginning to take its toll on the outnumbered garrison. For every Mutalisks they shot down, it seemed another ten appeared in the sky.

The walls of the outpost was supposed to theoretically withstand attack, but rather than attacking the wall itself, the hordes of zerglings just stacked on top of each other as a living ramp, inching ever closer too the top. No matter how many bullets they emptied into the field of flesh, the stack continued to grow.

Soon the defenders were firing at point-black range as the living ladders came within three feet of the top. Just as it looked as if the wall would be compromised, the whine of engines and a rush of air came as three Dropships with Wraith escorts made a less-than-graceful landing in the center of the compound and dropped their ramps.

"LET'S GO, MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!" screamed the Captain

The two remaining tanks of their detachment were the first to load up into the hulls. This took far longer than any commander would have liked, and almost before the hull straps had been pulled over the top of the vehicles, the few remaining personnel piled into the awaiting seats. Finally, the engines revved up and the Dropships began to ascend into the sky. The pair of Wraiths escorting the evac-flight had managed to keep the L-Z free of Mutalisks up until then, but it was obvious they couldn't keep it that way much longer.

The Captain took one last glance around to check everyone had boarded, and then leapt into the hull of the final Dropship.

"LET'S GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE! TAKE OFF NOW!"

But it didn't take off. The Captain noticed a figure to his right and turned. It was a woman, wearing the uniform of a Ghost.

"One last job left, Captain. Then you and your boys can go home." Her words came in a cold, but very firm voice. There was something about hearing a Ghost speak that no one could ever clearly define. But when front-liners heard it, it always threw a shiver down their spines. This time was no exception.

The Ghost walked out onto the ramp and pointed a souped-up version of what the Captain recognized as a C-10 Rifle out at the field. A laser pointer flashed form the eye scope, and a few seconds passed. A beeper went off on the weapon, and then she quickly brought it down and ran back up the ramp and took a seat.

"Now we can go!" she said, in a tone that sounded as if it was gripped by pleasure.

This came not a moment too soon, for at the same time one of the Ultralisks that had worked its way to the front of the field of carnage ripped it's enormous tusks through the wall and was barreling straight towards them. The Dropship was attempting to move forward at the same time it was taking off, and its extra weight was not helping in the endeavor. The Ultralisk got within ten feet of the ramp, and the Captain was bracing himself for the inevitable crash and certain death to follow.

But it didn't come.

He faintly registered a loud hiss and an explosion, followed by an ear-shattering bellow and a thump to wake the dead.

He opened his eyes to see, several hundred feet away now, the last twitches of the Ultralisk that had been chasing them. He quickly turned to see the Ghost still holding the C-10 in an aim, smoke still coming from the rocket-pod attached under the muzzle.

He was speechless. The ramp pulled up and sealed with a snap. As the altitude reached to over a mile, a flash illuminated the port-hole. The Captain risked a glance out of it after the flash disappeared to see a large, black mushroom cloud beginning to dissipate in the wind.

Within five minutes of flight they were free of the atmosphere and heading to an awaiting Battlecruiser.

"Your crazy, you know that!" the Captain screamed.

The Ghost turned. Nothing had ever served to silence the Captain more than the cold stare she gave him.

"I know," she said. The smallest of smiles appeared on her face as she turned away.

My name is Nova, and this is my story.

* * *

**Chapter 1: The Girl  
**

* * *

(From the personal log of Captain 25-A, "Nova", 6th Black Ops. Squadron, Terran Ghost Corps)

'_I suppose I should start at the beginning. It is always good to start there. Because if I were to start at the end, you would already know it,  
and would not bother to hear any other parts._

_When I first entered the Ghost program, I thought it would be a bit of an adventure. They were looking for Terran with Psychic abilities for it. I happened to have them. While at the time I had no concept of my abilities, and had little control to use them, he took me, and trained me to use them for the purposes of the state._

_That was a long time ago… and now, I feel I need to tell the story, of how everything finally ended in the Koprulu sector, from my point of view. I'm unsure of how much time I can offer for the recollection, but I hope one day someone will read it. Much of what I am about to impart I learned only recently, and there is much that is still missing. I will do my best to relay everything I can in the short time I have here._

_So now, I'll tell my story…'_

At ten years of age, with no friends, little family, and no prospects for a good life in near-slum area she called home, the girl was possibly the perfect candidate for the life she would experience. There was nothing too unique about her at first glance. She was pretty, or so her Grandfather had once told her. She had blonde hair, average height, and average figure. The one thing that stood out about her was rarely noticed at first; her startling green eyes. The eyes told more about here than anything. Where any other factor would have labeled her just another kid, her eyes spoke of a deep, hidden maturity.

She lived in a small shack in the outskirts of Lobet, one of the industrial centers on the planet Tarsonis. Despite the rather poor conditions, the area was low in crime and located at a center commerce area, which may have contributed too her developing an internal work ethic.

She would often go around doing odd jobs for small change in the market place, and would keep her earnings in a glass jar under her bed. After her Grandfather had passed away, only her ailing and forgetful Grandmother stood to care for her. So, in reality, she cared for herself.

Things may have gone on this way for a long, long time, and the girl may have grown up to become one of the mid-level business executives that, in those times, often came from the impoverished districts of the Confederacy. That and more, had a certain Lieutenant of the Confederate Intelligence Agency not decided to stop for some beatfruit at a market stand.

It was that morning, many years ago, that the girl was walking through the street lost in thought, and happened to bump into the large man. He was a tall, burly man with the demeanor of a trained professional, possibly in his early thirties.

"Watch where you're going kid; you could get trampled if you don't," he growled in her general direction.

"Sorry…" she said, hiding her indignation over his rudeness.

In that instant, her feelings of anger pushed out of the cramped quarters of her suppressed mind, and she envisioned herself throwing one of the beatfruits he was examining directly in his face.

There was a SPLAT sound, which caused her too look around towards the source. Too her utter amazement, the pulpy remains of what had been a beatfruit was sliding down the man's face, as he quickly grabbed a handkerchief from a pocket and began to wipe it off.

The man turned and stared back at her, a look of slight uncertainty in his eyes. She went on staring right back, refusing to look away, as if that would imply she was intimidated. The man straightened up, turned, and walked down the street. The girl watched him until he disappeared down a street corner, then she two returned home.

The next few days went without incident. After a while, she forgot all what had transpired. It was completely out of her mind by that last morning of her childhood. There was no way she could have known about the monitoring that had gone on for the few weeks following the incident in the market. She could never have imagined just how much that one incident would change her life… forever.

So it was that one morning, several weeks later; that the girl slowly came awake to the sound of arguing downstairs. It sounded like her Grandmother, and other male voices she didn't recognize. Suddenly there was a scream, followed by three loud bangs. By the time she had crawled out of her bed, the door burst open to reveal two towering figures in metallic suits and helmets.

Picked up by her arms, the girl could do little to resist. She wished with all her might that she had the strength to throw these things out of her room. The next thing she realized was that her bedroom window was gone, and there was the sound of groans and curses coming from outside the house. Both men had been thrown out the window. All of a sudden she was paralyzed, unsure of what to do next. She was vaguely aware of footsteps running up behind her, and only tried to get away at the last moment as one hand grabbed her shoulder, followed by a small pierce of a needle in her upper arm.

She felt lightheaded. She could no longer stand, and fell, sprawled on the floor. Her position changed, she saw the man from the market-place, and two others she didn't have any recollection of knowing.

The last thing she heard before losing consciousness was a brief part of conversation.

"She's definitely one. Good choice. We better get her to TGC testing facility before she wakes up."

"Right, man that was a powerful resistance..." said another voice.

She blacked out.

The curtain of blackness that surrounded her slipped ever so slightly. It was a long time later, but she had no awareness of this.

"It's powerful all right, and I've never seen this before, in fact I never thought it possible..." went a voice.

The conversation continued fading in and out. She was suddenly aware of the sounds of machines, the scrape of tools, and the picking and clicking of metal. She also started feeling a slight pain in her arms, chest, and head. She must have twitched form the feeling, because all at once another man spoke.

"She's coming awake! Quick neutralize her damn it! She can't remember anything we've said!" said another voice,

The needle puncturing her skin this time was not even noticed. Again she drifted off into oblivion.

Slowly, very slowly, the curtain was drawn back. Not slipping with the failure of drugs, but intentionally and controlled removal. The girl became aware of the temperature of the room, of the numbness of her body. She had no concept of the time, day, or anything else.

There was silence for a long time. And then… "Open your eyes," a voice broke the silence.

She felt nothing. Only a curtain of eternal blackness draped over her entire being. At first, she didn't think she could even respond. And then she heard it again.

"Open your eyes."

Her eyes opened, and despite the numb feeling all around her, she sat up. She was on a medical bed, and as she looked about, she noticed a few wires and tubes connected to her body, which was stripped down except for what looked like generic linen underwear. Then she saw the man. She didn't recognize this one at all. He was an older man, but not too old. The lines on his face told more of battle-wear rather than age, and unlike the faces she had seen before, had the mark of a true soldier.

"Sorry we had to be so hard on you; I hope they didn't hurt you too badly."

She continued staring around, rather dumstruck. "Where am I?" she asked in a quiet tone.

He seemed to think a moment, and then gave a carefully considered—if unhelpful—reply.

"If you require anything, ask the attendant who will be checking on you from time to time."

Suddenly that feeling came again. Feelings of anger and indignation at having been taken from her room, forced into this strange place, and all for reasons unknown to her. She whirled her legs over the side of the bed and stood up.

"You can't do this to me! What do you want!"

The man shifted his weight to one side. "You are a very special girl, you know. We knew it the moment you arrived here. You have exhibited characteristics that make you perfect for our purposes."

"What are you talking about!" she shouted at him. "Where am I? Where's my… my… my…" she stammered aimlessly, no word coming to mind to represent what she was trying to say. All of a sudden she felt completely helpless. She could not even explain why she stammered to herself as her mouth continued moving. As if she was trying to form a word she could no longer remember.

"Your family?" he offered, almost comically. "What family? Are you saying you… remember?"

Suddenly the girl froze. She clasped her head with her hands, and as they met her crown, one of them came across a section and felt metal where scalp should have been. Her hair had been completely shorn as well. But that was not what started making her tremble with fear. A fear that few could ever truly understand. Fear… because of nothing. The girl finally realized that she could not grasp what she meant, because there was nothing there to grasp.

"Wha… wha… What have you done to me?" she looked at the man with wide, unbelieving eyes. "What have you done to me?"

He said nothing.

"What have you done to me! Why can't I remember!"

He said nothing.

"My… my… my…" she panted desperately with each attempt. Her heart was racing, and water began to well-up at the corner of her eyes. "WHY CAN'T I REMEMBER!"

He said nothing. He put his chin in one hand and seemed to ponder the girl for a while.

"You have no memories anymore." He said this without a hint of emotion. No malice, no pity, nothing.

"You have no name. No family. No home, history, or place of birth. You are what we would call a non-person," as he spoke, she sat back on the bed, her head between her hands. A small sob and some tears came as he continued, "I'd say the most likely event in your past is a disappearance or a death in a tragic fire. What does it really matter? No one knows. You will never know. There is no way for you too retrieve any sort of piece of your former life."

He continued to stand there, the girl pouring out her grief into her hands. Grief for something she could not even define.

"You're taking it better than some, if that interests you. I suggest you get used to it as soon as possible."

She continued crying for a long moment. Then she worked up enough resolve to ask a question. "What are you going to do with me?"

The man smiled. "Turn you into an essential part of the preservation of the human race, I should say. Take my advice kid, because we won't likely meet again for you too hear it. Do as you're told, and never look back, only forward."

She looked over at him, the tears now silently streaming down the sides of her face. "What does that mean…" she said, half to herself, the water continuing to flow despite her voice lacking its former grief.

"You'll find out one day, pup."

The sound of a door opening was heard to one side. "Colonel Duke, sir. Your presence is required at G-56."

"All right then…" he took one last look at the girl. "Seems like a waste if you ask me."

Then he was gone, leaving her alone in that room with nothing but silence. There was nothing for her to do but sit there. What else could she do but lie down and listen… to the sound of silence of the room. To the silence of her sorrow. To the absolute, total silence of her mind.

* * *

_Original A/N:_

Huh? Good enough for the first chapter? I NEED REVIEWS, REVIEW PLEASE!  
I'm taking the story in a slightly different context from my original plan. That is, I've pretty much changed the central p.o.v. so it's easier to do stuff later on. Hope everyone likes the new spins I'm planning. :D

_Post-2011 A/N:_

So, yeah… went through and tweaked a few things. Both to comply with FF standards and because it looks cleaner this way, I've combined the prologue and first chapter. With any luck, my renewed venture will prove fruitful. :D I'm still tinkering with this first chapter because I think I did a good job scripting it to be a powerful, emotional presentation. I'm still taking suggestions in order to perfect it. ^_^


	2. Chapter 2: The Tests And The Name

Well hell… I'm back. ^_^ Tweaking and tweaking in preparation for continuing.  
(Old) NOTES TO AUTHORS:  
None. :p If you guys criticized me before on any counts, and you aren't satisfied now, shove it, hehehe

As stated before, several aspects have been altered so if you happen to be one of the earlier readers and this seems a lot different… it pretty much is different. I've redesigned it to be a bit more cohesive.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 2: The tests, and the name**

* * *

It was several hours after the doors had closed that the girl finally managed to fall into a less-than-peaceful sleep on the stiff mattress. She wasn't sure of the exact time she had been there, but from the meals that kept appearing by her bed she could have roughly estimated the amount of days spent alone in the room. She only ever saw the "attendant" once, and only briefly when she was just waking up. What was left of her mind was occupied with the nothingness left to her. It was like she was never waking up; constantly being in a dream whether her eyes were closed or not. All she could bring herself to do was to eat and sleep. Keeping track of time was far from being a priority. As she lay in bed most of the time, she would often run her hand over the metal plate on the back of her head.

It continued like this for some time. And when three masked people walked into the room a few days later and beckoned her to come with them, it was done without any protest or resistance on her part. She was lead down a long, gleaming corridor. Huge doors like the entrance to her room were spaced along it at exact intervals, identification marks flashed by her eyes in a succinct, military order that failed to register in her consciousness. At last they came to a room marked: "A-5". One of the masked persons entered a code on the keypad and the door swished open.

When they entered, it was a rather large room. It had an empty, simple setup. In the center there was a chair and table, on top of which were a pitcher, a glass, three small balls, and a notepad with pencil. One of the men prodded her along and pushed her into the chair, and the three masked people took seats in high-back chairs along the wall. Each of them took out a pad and pencil and looked prepared to take thorough notes.

After a moment, the one that had seated her walked around into her line of sight.

"I'd like you to pour a glass of water," the faceless person said, "without using any part of your body to lift the pitcher."

The girls concentration was suddenly back in reality and on the room. She looked puzzled at the request, and seemed not to understand at all. Without waiting for a response, one of the other masked individuals rolled over a machine of sorts. They began hooking up pads and wires to different areas of the girls body. The machine came on, and paper started rolling. Several different reading indicators scrolled by and digital displays read numbers.

"Perhaps we'll start with something more basic," said the first man dryly. "React to any of the following things in whatever way feels most natural to you."

A flip sound was heard, and a projected screen appeared. A click sound, and an image appeared. It was a field of flowers. While the girl looked on, still puzzled, one of the masked persons removed everything but the three balls from the table. Another click, there was a war photo displaying the bloody aftermath of a battle. The girls face twitched a little, the readers were jumping. More clicking, more images, each one varying between a calm scene and images of violence, death, and desolation. A mother with child, a public hanging, a lake, a whipping. On and on it went. The girl started to scream, the readers were going FIP FIP FIP as they hit the edges of their holders. The three metal balls shot off the table and with the loud THUNK, they became embedded in the wall where the images were being projected.

"THERE!" shouted one of the masked faces.

The images abruptly stopped. The girl's screaming ceased almost immediately. Despite the fact they were masked, the observers were obviously pleased. The girl heard a click, and felt a slight pinch in her skull as someone adjusted a wire. The tapping of keys was heard.

"Location of that particular cellular matrix has bee mapped. We're ready for suppression. 3…2…1… Engage"

The girl felt a sharp pulse go down her spine all the way to her feet and went rigid with the feeling of it. The initial sensation was of burning in her brain, but after a second she could feel nothing. Only a few seconds later the burning was back, it stayed for a fleeting moment, and then was gone again.

There was a moment of silence. Then footsteps came over near her, and with a clink, the pitcher and glass were put back in front of her.

"Now," said the voice, "please pour a glass of water without touching the pitcher."

The girl was unsure of how to respond to this.

After a moment, the man continued, "Just let your mind play through the action. And don't let your body act it out."

The girl just stared at the pitcher a moment. She wondered in her mind how she could possibly fulfill such a request. She began picturing the act as the man said. Then her eyes widened, as the pitcher slowly lifted itself into the air, as if on its own power. She could not believe her eyes, and for a few seconds nothing happened. Then the girl had the faintest realization, and she finished her thought about how to comply with the voice's request. The pitcher poured a glass of water.

A hand reached out, grasped the pitcher, and put it back on the table.

"That will do for today, I think," the voice said, sounding very pleased.

This was not the last time things like this happened, for several repeated sessions occurred. Every time she would come to that same room, and she would work as directed by the masked people. Soon she could complete the task of pouring water without spilling, overfilling, or needing someone to put the pitcher back down. Then the "curriculum" seemed to shift, as the metal balls were brought back into play.

They would have her constantly trying to control the balls, and made constant effort to cause her to repeat the same general incident that had happened on her first day in the room. The dig marks from the impact were quite visible. Within a day or two of practice, she could cause the metallic balls to circle the room, perform acrobatic patterns, and return to her without a problem. On the third day, she managed to carry out the request. She spent an hour slamming the balls into the wall, retrieving them, and slamming them again.

"That will do for today," said the voice.

And just like all the other days, she was escorted back down that long, lonely corridor to her room. She spent only a few minutes eating the meal set out for her, and then fell back on the bed and spent the next hour or so wondering what all this could possibly mean. Her mind still drawing blanks, she felt as if the dream state was still hanging over her—making it all but impossible for her to even think straight. She was reduced back to shedding silent tears more than once. The sobs of grief she felt on the first day had faded though. Slowly, she felt those feelings of loss and sorrow fading into the cold embrace of numbness. Despite lacking anything in the way of memory or experience to grasp, she was finally facing up to the realization that she would never know anything prior to her life at that moment, and could only move on to whatever these people had planned for her.

She felt like it must be the next morning when the door opened. Unlike all the other time, only one person came into the room. Like all the other times, she received a gesture to come, and so she came.

She was immediately struck by unfamiliarity, for while she had always gone down the left corridor to room "A-5", the escort pointed her in the opposite direction. They walked for several minutes, and then stopped outside a door marked "Amphitheater 3-B". The door opened, and she was marched towards a chair some distance away. Once she sat down, she finally looked around and was awestruck by the room's size. She had never seen a room as large as this. Along the face of its distant walls were more doors, unmarked. The ceiling expanded up what must have been thirty feet or more.

Beside her, the masked figure stuck a key into a lock in the floor, and opened up a panel. Several cords and wires were reeled out, and the next minute or so consisted of her once again receiving the uncomfortable hook-up to some sort of machine.

When he was done, he turned and walked away to one of the doors of the far wall. Punching in something on the key-pad, it opened for him, and then closed again. She heard someone clear their throat, and it echoed off the metal walls. Turning, she saw, high up, a kind of observation box in which sat four people, also masked, watching her. She turned away, ignoring their presence.

A horn sounded a note of warning. A hiss, and then came the slow rising of doors at the wall facing her. Out of the doors leaped the large, furry figures of Bengalis'. There were four of them, and they were swiping at each other in apparent unfamiliar dislike and hunger. Then one sniffed the air, and saw her. The others turned too, and suddenly their attention shifted to a group exercise of stalking potential prey. They scattered, two heading towards a flanking maneuver, the other two slowly coming forward, crouched in a stalking position.

The girl felt extreme fear creeping up on her. She shot a glance towards the observation box. The observers weren't looking at her, but had their faces down towards something in the box, out of her line of vision. She realized at once that this test of theirs required them to be out of direct harms way, and so the machines she had been hooked up too before were positioned up there. They only had interest in the readings she was giving them.

This realization suddenly caused a change in her demeanor. Not only was she extremely afraid of the beasts in the room with her, but this began to combine with a huge explosion of anger at what those people in the box were doing to her. Suddenly, her head began to hurt. She closed her eyes and winced at the pain. She began telling herself that the creatures weren't there. They were back in their doors, with the doors closed. She thought this with all the power she could muster, as her head began pounding, splitting, burning with a pain she had never experienced before.

Just when she thought her head would split itself in two, she heard loud growls of Bengalis' in a state of confusion and rage. The screech of metal upon metal. The THUNK of doors slamming home. The pain disappeared from her head, and she fell from the chair to the floor, where she lay trembling for a long time. The door the man had disappeared through earlier opened again, and out came the people from the observation box. One of them placed her back in the chair. They had with them another machine on wheels, and from this more wires came and were attached. She again felt the scrape and pinch as something seemed to penetrate her head.

"Coordinates set…" said one, "ready to engage."

"Engage," replied another voice.

The burning feeling from many days ago was back, it hung onto her for a moment, and then once again she was paralyzed by a pulse that seemed to stream down her. A moment later, the burning returned briefly, and was gone again.

"A few more tests and she'll be ready, I think."

"Shall we call it a day then?"

The sound of a door opening echoed across the room. A new voice spoke. "Move right into Stage 3, please."

The girl was looking at the ground, but she could feel everyone turn towards the source of the voice.

"S… sir, b-b-but we just completed this procedure, and…"

"I'm quite aware of that."

"O-o-of course you are, sir, I didn't mean to suggest…"

"That will do."

There was a pause.

"Yes, sir."

They quickly started to unhook the machines and wires.

"Sir, if I may be so bold as to ask…"

"Yes?"

"What brings you down here today?" the man sounded almost frightened.

There was a pause, "I haven't been directly involved with the acceptance procedures in quite some time. I decided to look in on one of the new bloods."

"Ah, I see, I see…" he muttered, though it was apparent he didn't quite grasp any meaning from this.

The panel door was locked, and the machine wheeled away back into the observation door. Footsteps started to walk away, and then stopped.

"Sir, won't you be observing with us?"

"Of course I will."

"Then why…"

"I'll do just fine right here," the unseen voice said.

"B-b-but sir!" the man began to protest.

"That will do. You may go and begin the procedure."

Another pause.

"Yes… yes, sir," he said with a neutral resignation.

More footsteps could be heard, and then the sound of a door closing. The girl heard the remaining person walk up directly behind her. For the first time, she looked up and saw him. She could not see his face, because he, like all the others, was masked. But she could see his eyes. They were something fierce. Terrible and wonderful to behold. She felt afraid to look into the penetrating gaze of those grey orbs. And she also was so transfixed that she could not look away. And so they shared a long gaze for a few moments.

"What you did last time won't work," he said. "Though I'd doubt you'd try it in any case. Keep in mind what comes out of those doors is trying to hurt you. They have worse plans than anything we might have for you. That is the way the world is. The only way to survive is to neutralize any threat."

She just stared at him. Then the warning horn sounded, and she looked back towards the doors from before. They were already open when she looked, and now more Bengalis' came. She recognized the ones from before, but this time not only did they look extraordinarily mad, their number had increased to eight.

She felt a slight rustle of air, and looked to see the man raise his arm in a kind of signal. The doors from which the beasts had entered closed, leaving the Bengalis' no way of returning. They had spotted the two humans in the center of the room, and had assumed attacking positions as they began to circle.

The girl was suddenly aware that she was not afraid. She felt nothing at all for that matter. All she could do was stare at the creatures as they continued to draw close too her. The words of the man suddenly filled her head '…what comes out of those doors is trying to hurt you… The only way to survive is to neutralize any threat.'

She continued to focus on the animals. At last, when the circle closed within about twenty feet, one of the Bengalis' sprang. It tore towards the seated girl, and then leaped into the air in a spring. Time seemed to slow as the animal flew towards her. Five feet, four, three, two… Her eyes closed. A moment passed, and nothing happened. She had expected to feel the weight of the Bengalis slam into her, and opened her eyes in wonderment. There was no longer a Bengalis soaring towards her.

The observers heard and saw what occurred next. One of them gave a sort of yell in surprise; audible enough to be heard even through the glass window. While the people up in the box gaped in horror, the girl neither saw nor heard anything, so great was her attention locked inward.

She became aware of a feeling of a warm something moving along her skin, and looked down. She was covered in blood. As far as her eyes could see, there was blood. Blood, meat, bits of bone spread out over the floor before her. She had no concepts from which to either react or think about what was happening. She simply looked back up to see more of the Bengalis' coming towards her. She had no idea what she was doing, but felt her mind pulsing instinctively. No distinct thought crossed her mind, but she felt her thoughts moving through motions she had never felt before.

The only sounds were the Bengalis' roar, followed by a sudden cut off, and an occasional slap as something hit the walls or floor. Thirty seconds after the first Bengalis had attacked, it was all over. The room was now covered with what could barely qualify as the remains of the Bengalis. Even the observation window had not gone unsullied. The girl stood in front of her chair, breathing slowly, blood trickling from her arms and face. She wondered when she had stood up.

The far door opened, and two men rushed up towards them.

"My God, sir… are you alright!"

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you gentlemen."

Without another word to the girl, he began walking towards the exit, his boots making loud echoes off the walls. The men stood there looking after him, bewilderment in their eyes. He had not even paused to consider cleaning off the mass amount of fluids from his clothing.

"Since it's obvious this one is ahead of schedule, move her straight on, please."

He did not wait for a reply, but walked out of the room, followed by the door closing. There was silence for a moment, and then, "Come with us," said one of the men.

They lead her out of the room, and down the corridor once again. The girl finally came back into reality, and consciously walked with them to whatever new thing they had for her. As they walked, all she could do was ask herself 'What happened? What did I do?' Disbelief and lack of understanding plagued her until they reached yet another room she had never seen before.

This one was identified as "Processing 5". The door opened automatically, and they stepped in. It looked almost like a lounge, with some chairs against the wall for waiting, and a single desk with a uniformed clerk behind it.

"Yes, how can I help you?" asked the clerk.

"Here for processing subject 900003234, clearance Red-5."

"Alright, gentlemen, just put her right in there," he gestured towards one of the doors to his left.

They walked her into what looked like a similar room to where she had been staying herself for the past few days. Moving over to a medical bed, the men had her lay down on it, and they tightened two restraining straps onto her arms. Her feet were secured likewise. They then left without saying anything.

She waited what must have been half an hour or so, and then a door at the other end of the room opened, and in walked three people, two men and a woman by the shape of them. They began wheeling over strange equipment, and within a few minutes had positioned several apparatuses about her bed.

One of the men brought up what looked like a gun with a needle at the point. A vial of green was loaded into the back. The needle punctured her skin, and the vial emptied. The girl felt her body go numb, and she could neither feel anything nor move anything. One of the men positioned a small rectangle over her eyes. She suddenly realized that she could not even blink, and her eyes were beginning to feel dry and hurt. A switch was flipped, and suddenly the pain and dryness went away in her eyes.

"We're ready to begin."

Another apparatus came into view, with an extremely large needle. It was turned until the needle was facing directly at her. Slowly, very slowly, the needle was pushed closer until it was about three inches from her eye.

"Engage."

A whine was heard, and the machine seemed to move by itself. A small light at the very tip of the needle came on. The needle seemed to adjust itself ever so slightly, and came to point at the center of the left eye. Then the needle moved forward, and the girl had but a slight feeling of mental discomfort as the needle penetrated the pupil and moved deep into her brain.

"Alright, give her the second one."

Another slight hiss of the needle gun, and she all at once felt drowsy. Within ten seconds, she felt herself falling asleep.

When she began to regain consciousness, she noticed that while her eyes must have been open when she fell asleep, they were now closed. She opened them now, and glanced around. When she tried to move, she realized whatever she had been given had only worn off slightly, and she was still immobile.

"Well, look who's awake," came one of the men in the room.

"Good, then we can finish," replied the woman. "Read off her stats please."

The girl saw the woman sat at a computer typing.

"Induction of A-25 has been approved. Statistics read as follows: Type-Z3; Chem-36 Level 8; Chem-5 Level 10," the man read off.

The other man whistled. "Never seen one of these in all the time I've been here."

"Hush up," said the other man. "Still needs the call name, they left it blank."

There was silence for a moment. "Among many space phenomena are stars that eject some of their mass in the forms of clouds… and in the process they become more luminous," stated the woman, matter-of-factly. "When that happens, they call it a 'Nova'."

The woman walked over to the bed. "Fear and anger have been ejected, so now will she become more luminous?"

There was another moment of silence. "Nova… I like it."

The woman sat back down. More tapping of keys could be heard. "Processing complete, unhook her."

One of the men reached down behind the girl's neck. She heard a sort of slurp sound as something was removed from something else. He withdrew a needle from where it had been hooked in, and rolled up the cords it had been attached too.

"Nova, eh?" said the man, "good name."

The two men soon left, and the woman got out of her seat and stood over the girl. "I hope you like your new name," she said quietly. "I can tell we can expect great things from this one."

The woman turned away, and picking up her notepad, walked out of the room, leaving the girl with a spinning head and more questions than anyone could have dreamed up in a lifetime.

* * *

Post 2011 A/Ns: Ahah! Tweaking works! So I noticed I am NOT the only one that did a fanfic based on Nova and Stracraft Ghost. Still, FIRST! ^_^ And let's see if I can jump back in and finish this baby off. Because otherwise I'll be worse than the writer of the Evangelion manga, hehe. I think I've learned that the best writing is the kind that lives, breathes, and changes. So I may continue to tweak as I complete chapter 3. See you then!


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